


Lead me

by bluejbird



Series: Astray [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Veronica did say she'd show Betty her moves. So it's only polite for Betty to take her up on the offer.





	

Now that they’re here, in her room, Betty is starting to lose her nerve. 

“We don’t have to do this,” Veronica reassures her. She’s looking around Betty’s room with interest – the pictures on her vanity, the frills and flowers, the knick knacks on her shelves. Betty wonders what Veronica’s bedroom looks like. Wonders if she’ll ever get to see it. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

And that’s the whole crux of the matter, when you get down to it. Betty is a good girl. She does what she’s told. She does what’s safe. She follows expectations. 

It’s a life, but not much of one. And not the one she wants to be living. 

“I want to,” Betty says, firmly. Decisively. She uncurls her hands and reaches for Veronica. 

Veronica takes the hint, and the lead. Her lips brush against Betty’s, and for a split second she’s back in the gymnasium, baffled and sweaty palmed, with the weight of Cheryl’s disdainful gaze on them. Panic bubbles through her, and then Veronica’s tongue presses against the seam of her lips, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to open them and let her in. 

For their second kiss – and, incidentally, her fourth ever – it’s good. Sweet, and tender and full of promise. 

Betty has always been patient. Always been able to wait for a promise to be fulfilled, no matter how long it takes. But she’s tired of waiting, wishing and hoping. It never seems to get her anywhere, or at least nowhere she wants to be. 

She presses forwards, hovering her hands over Veronica’s hips before the courage flows through her enough to let them rest against the fabric of Veronica’s cheerleading skirt. A thrill ripples through her body and she slides her tongue to meet Veronica’s, demanding more without speaking a word. 

She nudges her towards the bed. 

“Whoa, tiger,” Veronica says, breaking the kiss. Her eyes flash, but she’s smiling. 

“Sorry,” Betty says, automatically, glancing away. Embarrassment floods her, colouring her cheeks. She wonders if being rejected is something she’s going to have to just get used to. 

Veronica’s fingers catch her chin, tilting it up. 

“I just meant we have all the time in the world. No need to rush.”

“My mom will be home in an hour,” Betty says. She wants to warn Veronica how very not awesome it would be if her mom caught them, for far too many reasons. But she can’t seem to find the words. Not without explaining about Polly, about what her mother things about Cheryl and Archie and Veronica. 

Veronica laughs. It’s soft, but it makes Betty’s toes curl inside her white sneakers. “Then we have a whole sixty minutes,” she corrects herself. “There’s plenty we can do in that time.”

“Like what?” Betty hears her own voice, breathless and eager. She feels at such a loss with this sort of thing, out of her depth. It’s not normally a feeling she enjoys, but Veronica is so patient.

Veronica toes off her sneakers and sits down on the bed, patting the space beside her. “Why don’t we start by getting more comfortable?”

Betty only hesitates for a heartbeat or two before she kicks off her own shoes and sits beside her. 

“Lie down,” Veronica suggests, nudging Betty until she’s reclining on the pillows. 

Betty bites her bottom lip as Veronica nudges her legs apart and crawls up the length of the bed. There’s something feline about her movements, and Betty is entranced by the fluidity of her, the self confidence she exudes. She wonders what it would be like to feel that way about herself. 

Veronica’s knees press against the inside of Betty’s thighs, and her hands rest on the bed either side of Betty’s chest. She looks down at her, dark hair hanging in shiny curtains on either side of her face. 

Betty bites her lip harder. She’s not entirely sure this is really happening. She’s not even sure how it happened. She remembers Veronica’s flippant offer to show her some moves, remembers how surprised they’d both been by her uncharacteristic response, half flirty and half joking. And now somehow they’re here, in her room, on her bed. 

“Betty.”

Veronica’s lips pull up on one side, an amused smirk that Betty wants to taste. 

“Stop thinking so much. Just relax,” Veronica says, and kisses her again. 

Betty’s hands clench nervously at her sides for a moment, before she realises she can touch, if she wants. She starts with sliding her right hand against Veronica’s cheek, then back to grasp lightly at her hair. It makes Veronica kiss harder, makes her tongue slide and suck against Betty’s more insistently, and Betty lifts her other hand to Veronica’s waist. 

She means to slide her hand up against Veronica’s back, but her hand seems to have a mind of its own. Instead it moves up and forwards, until she’s cupping her breast. 

Veronica pulls back immediately. “Betty!” 

She sounds scandalised, and Betty drops her hand guiltily. “Sorry, sorry–”

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Veronica says. Betty meets her eyes, and there’s a flash of respect in there. She picks up Betty’s hand and places it firmly back on her breast. 

Betty’s laugh bubbles up out of her throat unexpectedly and Veronica cuts it off with her mouth. This time Betty lifts her head, kissing back, challenging the invasion of Veronica’s tongue. She moves her hand slightly, her thumb catching against the hardening nub of a nipple, and Veronica moans against Betty’s lips. 

It sends a shock of electricity through Betty’s body, straight to the ache between her legs. Her hips lift of their own accord, and Veronica responds by lowering her body to rest on top of Betty’s. 

She presses her hips down, and Betty’s hips lift automatically to meet her, and it’s her turn to moan. 

Veronica moves her mouth to kiss along Betty’s jaw, down her neck as their hips rock together again and again. The ache in Betty’s groin is growing and growing and she doesn’t remember moving but her hands are suddenly pushing up Veronica’s shirt, fingertips sliding under the edge of her spankies, pressing her down, pressing them closer. 

They move together as if they’ve rehearsed, and Betty’s brain is in overdrive, thinking about every inch of contact between their bodies, wishing it was more. She wants Veronica closer, but their pleated skirts are in the way, keeping their bodies apart just enough that she knows she’s hovering on the edge of something amazing. 

Veronica seems to read her mind, and pushes herself up, sitting back on her heels. 

“Okay?”

Betty swallows hard, and nods. She wants to tell Veronica how perfect everything feels, how easy, but Veronica grasps the hem of her shirt and tugs it over her head. 

Her bra is black and mostly see through, and it doesn’t surprise Betty in the slightest. She can see Veronica’s nipples, darker behind the sheer fabric, and her mouth seems wetter suddenly. There’s a matching wetness between her legs, and she wants nothing more than to lean up, to find out what Veronica’s nipple feels like against her tongue. 

But Betty’s never been good at asking for what she wants. So she just watches wordlessly as Veronica’s hands slide down across her stomach, thumbs sliding under the waistband of her skirt. She pushes it down, then slips out from between Betty’s legs and off the bed. Veronica shimmies out of her skirt and spankies. They drop to the floor. 

Betty stares at her, until Veronica puts her hands on her hips. She juts out one hip, sassy and sultry at the same time, and says, “Don’t leave me feeling underdressed here, Cooper.”

Betty sits up, and finds she’s smiling as she pulls off her own top. She has a moment of self consciousness, wondering whether Veronica will comment on her peach underwear, pretty but boring, just like Betty herself is. 

But Veronica’s eyes on her body don’t make her want to squirm away. Instead, her hungry gaze emboldens Betty, and she lifts her hips to slide off her skirt, kicking it away. 

“Cute,” Veronica says, reaching out to touch a fingernail to the white bow on Betty’s panties. The gesture makes Betty’s breath hitch. But she doesn’t want to be cute. She wants to be beautiful. She wants to be sexy. She wants to be wanted. When Veronica runs her fingertips just above the lace waistband, against the soft skin there, she shivers. 

It’s a shiver of anticipation, but also one of nervousness. Part of Betty wants Veronica to keep touching her there, to move her hand lower. Wants her to press kisses there, leaving a trail of dark shiny lip gloss as a reminder. But there’s a part of her that’s scared, and anxious, and just not ready. 

Veronica pulls her hand back. “Now where were were?” she asks with a wink, climbing back onto the bed. 

Betty’s sigh is small, enough that there’s a possibility that Veronica doesn’t notice. Her expression doesn’t change, at least, and it makes Betty want to kiss her, desperately and hungrily, and so she does so, pressing their lips together again and again in quick succession. 

“We were just about to switch places,” Betty says, and Veronica raises one eyebrow, but moves into place without complaint. 

She looks beautiful on Betty’s floral bedspread, hair spread out across the pillows. Her skin is soft and smooth, darker in contrast to Betty’s paleness when she slides a hesitant hand along Veronica’s thigh. 

“Betty!” Veronica’s voice is desperate and needy, and Betty doesn’t think anyone’s ever said her name that way before. It does something to her, makes the ache between her legs stronger, makes her heart thrum louder in her ears. 

She climbs on top of Veronica, grinding their hips together, catching the heat there just right. She lowers her head, stopping just short of meeting Veronica’s upturned mouth, and rocks forward. 

“I thought you’d never done this before?” Veronica asks. Her pupils are so blown that Betty can’t tell where they end and the iris begins, and Betty can’t quite believe that it’s because of her, that she’s turned Veronica on this much. 

Veronica rocks back, and they find a rhythm, hips meeting, rubbing, pressing, grinding, until it’s almost too much. They pant into each other’s mouths, faster and faster as the pace quickens, and Betty thinks this isn’t her, that she isn’t someone who knows how to do this, who can make someone moan the way Veronica is moaning, words like, “yes” and “Betty” and “fuck” catching in her throat. 

And then Veronica’s back arches, pressing her breasts hard against Betty, and the noise she makes is something Betty knows will replay over and over in her mind when she’s alone in her room, hands wandering in the darkness. 

Veronica’s body is tight against hers, still grinding and pressing back and then Veronica’s hands are on Betty’s hips, pulling her closer, nails digging into her skin so hard that it’s almost painful. 

It’s enough to tip Betty over the edge and she presses hard against Veronica, stuttering, shuddering, a moan slipping from her hips and into Veronica’s. 

She breathes through it, lets the pleasure roll through her and her fingers spasm, hips still rolling against Veronica’s. Her ears roar like the sound of the ocean, and her heart is in her throat and when she can think straight again her forehead is pressed to Veronica’s and she’s laughing. 

Veronica looks up at her, serious and soulful, and then she smiles. 

“Betty Cooper,” she says, and her voice sounds a little raw, a little more open, “you surprised me.”

“I surprised myself,” Betty says, huffing out another laugh. She starts to move away, but Veronica’s hands hold her there. 

“Stay awhile,” Veronica says, and kisses her. It’s slow and languid, easy and familiar in a way that it shouldn’t be. Not yet. And yet somehow it’s comfortable to stay this way, tongues intertwining, hips subtly shifting, sparks of pleasure still dancing on Betty’s skin wherever Veronica touches her. 

They pull apart only when Betty hears a car pull into the drive. Veronica doesn’t protest or comment on Betty’s panic, just dresses quickly, bending in front of the mirror to fix her make up. 

When Betty’s mom walks in a few minutes later, without knocking, as always, they’re sitting a respectable distance apart, watching a cheerleading video on Veronica’s phone. 

“Mom!” Betty says brightly. “This is Veronica.”

Her mom’s lips draw into thin lines, but she forces a smile. “Hello, Veronica,” she says tightly, the forced warmth in her voice noticeably fake. “I hope you’re settling into Riverdale well.”

Veronica blinks at her, wide eyed and innocent. “Oh yes, Mrs Cooper. Everyone’s so friendly and hospitable.” 

Betty catches the sly look Veronica throws her way. Her lips twitch, but she wills herself not to laugh. 

“Veronica offered to show me some of her moves,” Betty explains, and Veronica lets out a snigger that she covers with a cough. 

“I’m always happy to help, Betty,” Veronica says, getting to her feet. “Just let me know next time you want to...practice.”

She smiles at Betty’s mom, still standing in the doorway with her arms folded. “I should be getting home.”

Betty’s mom look suspicious, but that’s her standard look these days, even though Betty’s never given her any reason to worry. She’s a good girl, after all. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Veronica hesitates, then spins back around, skirt spiraling out. Betty very carefully doesn’t look at her legs. 

“Can’t forget my phone,” she says, bending down to grab it. With her body between Betty and the door, she swipes her hand lightly against Betty’s neck. 

Betty feels her eyes widen as she sees the dark smear of lip gloss on the pad of Veronica’s thumb. 

“Thanks,” she says, smiling. The grin Veronica gives her back makes her stomach turn somersaults – the kind that she needs to learn before the next cheerleader practice. She wonders if Veronica will help her with those moves, too. 

“Anytime,” Veronica says, pointedly. “I’ll see myself out. Nice to meet you, Mrs Cooper!”

She slides past Betty’s mom in the doorway, pausing to mouth ‘Call me!’ before disappearing down the stairs. 

Betty’s mom at least has the decency to wait until they hear the front door open and close. 

“I’ve told you, Betty,” she says, face pinched and disapproving. “That girl will lead you astray.”

Betty stands up, smooths down her skirt, and moves to the window. She watches Veronica walk down their front path, wills her to look back. 

Veronica is almost at the sidewalk when she turns and glances back. 

“Maybe,” Betty says, and grins. 


End file.
